


shapeshifters apparently can't lie about who you love

by nataytay407



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But different, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sam is a Little Shit, Shapeshifters!, a shapeshifter pretends to be castiel and dean believes them, castiel is very calm, castiel without his trenchcoat, dean in an AC/DC shirt, how do i do tags, sam accidentally shoots at a rat instead of the thing he's supposed to shoot, so don’t come looking for any well-written sexual tension, this was written by an asexual person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataytay407/pseuds/nataytay407
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting a strange breed of shapeshifter, which does not shed its skin but instead simply appears to anyone as the person that they love the most. The Winchesters have tracked it to an old run-down house, but things go a little sideways when Castiel appears in the house out of nowhere.





	shapeshifters apparently can't lie about who you love

**Author's Note:**

> i have another fic (will eventually be published) that has a similar idea to this one, but this fic was specifically inspired by a tumblr post about a creature that takes the form of the person you most love
> 
> i didn’t want to write a full-fledged episode because i don’t have the energy for that so i kinda drop you right into the middle of it
> 
> what you need to know about the special breed of shifter:  
> \- must consume human hearts to stay alive (at least two per month, but that’s barely enough to sustain this shifter breed)  
> \- native to northern canada (but the one sam & dean are hunting is in maine)  
> \- aromantics can see their true form  
> \- they can’t take the memories of anyone, only their form  
> \- incredible at improvisation (when you’re pretending to be someone, you kinda gotta act like them too, otherwise everyone grows a little suspicious)  
> \- the shifter sam & dean are after is a younger shifter, had just run away from home and never had to deal with hunters before. it has literally no clue what it’s doing

The house that the Impala pulled to a halt in front of didn’t appear too run-down on the outside, but on the inside it was as if it had been rotting for a hundred years. The door’s hinges creaked terribly loudly when Dean pushed the door open, gun in hand. The old, weathered floorboards buckled slightly under the brothers’ feet, and at one point Sam was a little concerned that the boards might actually give out underneath him. 

All of the rooms were barren, buried in cobwebs and dust. No one had lived in the house for years. The one thing that stood out from all the dust and dirt was a strange, uneven line on the floor, a stain from a dark liquid that Sam and Dean could only assume was blood. It was much harder to identify on a dark surface in the middle of the night, even with flashlights. 

“Well, I think we got the right house,” Dean said, shining his flashlight along the trail of blood. It ran along the floor and up the stairs, disappearing from view at the top. 

“Alright, I’ll check upstairs, you check down here.” Dean clicked the safety lever on his gun. “If you find the thing, just shoot it.”

Sam nodded to Dean before rounding the corner into another room. Dean turned around and went up the stairs as silently as he could. 

In an old-ass house, however, it’s impossible to walk silently. With each step, the stairs creaked loudly, causing Dean to wince slightly every time he heard a noise. 

Through a large window in the upstairs hallway shone the full moon. It illuminated the second floor well enough that Dean didn’t really need his flashlight, but he kept it on anyways. 

Following the trail of stained blood, gun at the ready, Dean noticed that the floor shone, dust-free, in the moonlight. Something had recently been dragged up here-- more specifically, something  _ dead _ had been dragged up here. 

Dean held his gun in one hand, following the blood trail into a room at the end of the hallway. He walked through the doorway and ran smack into someone. 

Dean jumped back in surprise, dropping his flashlight on accident. As quick as he could, he dropped back a few feet and pulled his gun on the person he’d run into. His flashlight was within reach, and he snatched it up and shone it directly onto the person’s face.

It was Castiel. His eyes were wide and his hands were up in a defensive pose. His gaze rapidly flickered between Dean and his gun. 

Dean let out the breath he’d been holding. “Holy hell, Cas,” he breathed, putting his gun down and turning off his flashlight. “Y’gotta warn me you’re there next time. I almost shot you.” 

Castiel was trembling a little. Did Dean actually scare him? He didn’t know Castiel could even be scared of  _ anything _ . 

“Hey, you good, man?” Dean asked, putting his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Castiel responded, pushing Dean’s hand away. His voice sounded a little less gruff than normal, for whatever reason.

Dean stared at him for a second.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were here?” he asked. “The shifter coulda gotten you before we could come as backup. I mean, I’m not sure what it’d really do with an angel’s heart, but…” He trailed off as something else crossed his mind. “Wait, a few hours ago you called me and Sam and told us you’d get here just before dawn. How’d you get here so fast? It’s barely past 1am.” 

Castiel’s eyes continued to flicker back and forth in a nervous manner. 

“I… miscalculated how far I was from here.” He shuffled slightly from side to side. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not here.”

Dean blinked at him. “What?”

“The… the shifter. It’s not here.” Castiel’s eyes reflected the moonlight for a moment when he turned his head, and Dean could swear he saw a glowing green instead of blue. “I searched the whole house, up and down. The shifter’s not here, and there’s no sign that it’s ever been here.” 

“Huh.” Dean had to think for a moment. “But if the shifter isn’t here, then what’s up with the blood on the floor? That seems… kinda recent.” 

“I believe there was a… a recent case of a man murdering his wife and then… dragging her dead body here.” Castiel spoke a little stiffly, still on edge. “It happened a couple weeks ago, but no one bothered to clean up the blood.”

This all seemed a little… off. Something was going on, and Castiel was acting strange. Dean was about to push past him to investigate the room where the blood trail led to, but before he could even move, a loud shot rang out from downstairs.

Castiel had zero time to react as Dean grabbed onto his arm and bolted with him down the stairs. 

Dean rounded the corner into the downstairs kitchen, letting go of Castiel as he slid to a halt, holding his gun in both hands. 

“Sammy?” he called.

“Over here!” sounded his brother’s voice from the other room. “A rat scared the hell out of me and I kinda accidentally shot at it.” 

Dean sighed in relief, putting his gun back into his pocket. He heard Castiel shuffling around behind him.

“Well, Cas got here before us,” he said, seeing Sam walk into the room out of the corner of his eye but being too busy fiddling with his flashlight to really look at him, “and he said that the shifter isn’t here. The blood is from a different event, apparently. It’s possible we got the wrong house.” He looked back up at his brother.

Sam was frozen in place, eyes wide and staring at Castiel in terror. His mouth moved wordlessly, attempting to spit words out but not being able to.

Dean’s smile vanished. He glanced behind him at Castiel, who was also frozen in place. 

When Sam finally got his mouth working, he stammered out a name Dean would never have expected to hear. 

“ _ Jess?” _

“J-- !” Dean had to do a double take. “Jess? What the hell are you talking about?” 

Sam was attempting to sputter something else out, his expression flickering between confused and terrified. He stood frozen for a few seconds longer before something visibly clicked in his head and he suddenly brandished his gun. 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dean quickly moved in between Castiel and Sam’s gun, although he didn’t quite notice himself doing it. “Dude, what the hell are you doing? Put your gun away!”

“Dean, that’s the shifter behind you!” Sam barked, slowly drawing closer with his gun pointed at Castiel.

Dean made a strangled noise before turning around to look at Castiel, then back at Sam. “What?! No! That’s Cas! What are you, crazy?”

Sam suddenly had the most absolutely  _ dumbfounded _ face Dean had ever seen on anyone before. 

A sudden shuffling noise, followed by a very loud series of thumps, caused Dean to spin around in surprise. He saw the beltstrap of Castiel’s trenchcoat disappear around the bend of the stairs before Sam went running after him, gun in hand. 

Dean was frozen for a minute, utterly baffled. What in the hell was going on? Why did Castiel bolt up the stairs? He wouldn’t have normally done that… 

Hell, he was an angel. He was  _ immortal _ . That silver bullet wouldn’t have done a damn thing to him. 

…but what if Sam was right? The shifter would appear differently to everyone as the person they most loved. Sam had said Jess’s name… 

Forcefully shoving all his thoughts aside, Dean ran up the stairs after his brother.

The door to the room that the blood trail led into was swinging wide open. Dean ran into the room to see Castiel backed into a corner, eyes wide in terror. Sam had him at gunpoint. 

The trail of blood led to a small pile of dead bodies in the corner of the room. There were large bite marks taken out of all of them. 

Castiel stammered something to Sam, but Dean was barely paying attention to what he was saying.

The real Castiel wouldn’t act this way. The real Castiel would have attacked someone with his angel blade before ever getting held at gunpoint. The real Castiel wouldn’t be scared of a silver bullet. The real Castiel never got scared, period. 

The moonlight shone through the room’s windows again, and this time Dean could clearly see the vibrant green in Castiel’s eyes. 

The real Castiel had beautiful blue eyes, and that was something Dean knew for sure. 

This wasn’t the real Castiel. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Dean raised his gun and shot the shifter in the head.

 

* * *

 

The real Castiel was, in fact, still driving to the run-down house at the time Dean shot the shifter. As he had told Dean and Sam a few hours ago on the phone. He did arrive just before dawn, and just as Sam and Dean were almost finished with digging a grave for the shifter.

It was currently Dean’s turn to dig the grave, and he was crouching inside the five-foot-deep hole in the ground, taking a breather. When he heard Sam call a greeting to Castiel, he felt his face grow warm and scooted up against the side of the grave, hiding himself from them. 

As soon as the shifter was dead, Sam had turned to Dean with the  _ smuggest _ possible grin on his face. Dean wanted to punch him. He severely regretted mentioning Castiel at all. Sam immediately began to throw questions at him, which Dean decided would be best not to answer. 

He knew that Sam would  _ never  _ let this go. 

However, things didn’t go exactly the way he thought they might when Castiel showed up.

The shifter’s body was sprawled next to the grave. To Dean, it still looked like Castiel despite being dead, and seeing him lying dead in front of him almost made him start crying. He thankfully didn’t, as he reminded himself that it wasn’t actually his friend. 

But when the actual Castiel noticed the body, Dean could immediately tell. Dean was still hidden in the grave, back pressed against the dirt wall, but he could still hear everything going on above him.

And when he heard Castiel say “ _ Dean?” _ in the most anguished, grief-stricken,  _ heartbroken _ voice he had ever heard, Dean almost leapt out of the grave to comfort him. 

_ Does he think I’m up there? _

His heart began to race as a new thought crossed his mind. 

_ Does he see the shifter as  _ me?

Without allowing himself any second thoughts, Dean pushed himself up, letting his arms rest on the edge of the grave as his head poked up to look at Castiel. 

Castiel was frozen in place, staring at the shifter. When he heard Dean call his name, he barely glanced down at him before having to do a double take. His expression was filled with anguish, but when he finally realized what was going on, he was visibly flooded with relief. Dean thought he saw tears in Castiel’s eyes, but he couldn’t tell in the dark.

“Cas, I’m fine,” Dean said cautiously. “You sounded like you saw me lying dead on the ground.” 

Castiel’s smile morphed into a confused frown. “Did you…” He glanced down at the shifter’s body, then back at Dean. “You already killed the shifter?” 

“Yeah, Dean shot it a few hours ago,” Sam replied. Then, a grin growing on his face (and ignoring Dean pulling on his shirt trying to get him to stop talking), he asked: “Why? Did you think that that was  _ Dean?”  _

Castiel didn’t respond to Sam, who was having a goddamn field day with this new information he’d just discovered. 

Dean then hoisted himself rather awkwardly out of the grave. He threw the shovel at Sam, who wasn’t expecting to have a large gardening tool thrown at him at 4:53 in the morning and let out a noise when it knocked him off of the tree stump he was sitting on, and stood up. 

“Hey Sam, it’s, uh… i-it’s your turn to dig. Go fuckin’ nuts.” Dean knew he sounded a little stilted and awkward, but at this point he just really wanted Sam to be as far away from him as possible. Walking around to the other side of the house, he let out a sigh. He needed time to process this without Sam yelling about how “those kids who wrote the Supernatural musical were RIGHT.”

Was Castiel really the person he loved the most?

And more importantly, was Dean really the person that Castiel loved the most?

A hand on his shoulder caused him to startle and turn around. Castiel was standing behind him. His trenchcoat and black suit were gone, left behind at the gravesite (it was a terribly humid week in July, and even Dean was wearing only an AC/DC t-shirt) and his blue eyes gently stared at Dean’s green.

_ Blue. How they’re meant to be. _

“So…” Dean didn’t know what to say. He felt way too awkward in this situation. 

“So you thought that the shifter was me?” he finally stammered out.  His face was burning up, but it wasn’t from the heat of the sun. Hell, the sun wasn’t even up yet-- it was barely even dawn. 

But the pale light in the sky caught in Castiel’s eyes and made Dean’s heart rate go flying through the roof. 

“Yes.” It was almost surprising how calmly Castiel could answer that question, considering how much of a mess Dean was at the moment. “And Sam told me that  _ you _ thought the shifter was  _ me _ .”

“Of fuckin’ … of course he did,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Bastard doesn’t know how to keep other people’s secrets.”

Dean had glanced away from Castiel while rambling to himself about Sam, and now he was a little scared to look back at him. For years--  _ years _ \-- Dean had himself convinced that his feelings towards Castiel were purely platonic. He had himself convinced that Castiel was his best friend, that it was normal to feel this way about a best friend.

But within the span of a few hours, all of that had come crashing down, leaving Dean scrambling to put all the pieces back together.

“Dean.” 

Dean looked back at Castiel. The angel was smiling softly, oh so softly, and that smile was what made Dean realize that he was in love.

And as they both began to lean in, the sun began to rise over the horizon, showering them in a pale pink light as they kissed.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> might make some art for this. i dunno  
> but stay tuned for the other story! its similar to this one but with a creature called Heartstealer instead of a fancy shapeshifter


End file.
